Paperback Writer

So Long and Thanks for All the Fish

2006-02-08T12:24:00.000-05:00

I like to hedge my bets. So, rather than say that I'm never going to post to Paperback Writer EVER AGAIN, I'm merely going to announce that

I likely won't be updating this blog anymore.

All two of you who read my blog might be asking yourself why. Or, perhaps, you've already hit the Next Blog button. Regardless (or, if you're the illiterate mayor of my city, you might say irregardless), I will tell you. I set up this blog as "an aspiring novelist", however I haven't aspired towards any writing, let alone novel writing for quite some time. In fact, if I were to be completely honest, I would confess that novel-writing is simply not on my radar right now, or in the foreseeable future. I've developed other priorities and interests. I may blog about those. And if I do, I'll post the link to that blog here.

In the mean time, that population of bloggers whom I read and respect can expect to see me more often in your comments section!

Which leads me to a famous quote from our beloved Douglas Adams on the topic of population:

It is known that there are an infinite number of worlds, simply because there is an infinite amount of space for them. However, not every one of them is inhabited. Therefore, there must be a finite number of inhabited worlds. Any finite number divided by infinity is as near to nothing as makes no odds, so the average population of all the planets in the Universe can be said to be zero. From this it follows that the population of the whole Universe is also zero, and that any people you may meet from time to time are merely the products of a deranged imagination.

Cheers,

Trillian

I always suspected as much...

2006-02-01T16:01:00.000-05:00

I'm a Porsche Boxster!

You're stylish, nimble, and good-looking. When it comes to having fun, there are few who can surpass you. And yet, you suffer from a lingering inferiority complex. Maybe it's because you have an older relative who is always in the limelight?

Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz.

OK - so, I stole this idea from Balls and Walnuts. What I lack in originality I totally make up for in copy and paste skills.

You can't always get what you want

2006-01-24T16:17:00.000-05:00

Hmmm.

I'm not really thrilled with the election results. While I thought we needed a change of leadership, Steven wasn't what I was really hoping for. Since it's a minority government, I can only hope that he won't be able to shimmy himself too far up Bush's ass or start quoting scripture in the House of Commons.

Based on the election results, there appear to be a whole lot of homophobic, bible-thumping Philistines in rural Canada (and especially in Alberta, but we already knew that).

At this point, I'm really glad I'm back in the city.

Love Lost

2006-01-13T09:36:00.000-05:00

Compared to other Canadians, I'm not the biggest hockey fan going. But, I've loved Mark Messier for quite a while, in much the same way as I love Owen.

In fact, I had briefly considered marrying Mark, but decided not to for a few reasons:

He's never met me.
He's never proposed.
I worried that his insurance premiums would be outrageous because hockey is something of a violent and risky sport, and also because his LDL cholesterol readings must be through the roof, what with all the Lay's potato chips he consumes.
I was already married to Arthur.

I know. I know. I should have looked past these things. It broke my heart to make the decision.

I love stupid videos

2006-01-11T12:47:00.000-05:00

Heh. Heh. Heh. This is pretty funny.

Amateur Stuntman
Watch it now on StupidVideos!

Hell in a HandBasket

2006-01-10T11:17:00.000-05:00

Good grief.

I can't believe the Conservatives are ahead in the polls. Sure, the Liberals suck rocks, but the "Reform Party with a comfortable new name" winning a majority scares the piss right out of me. See? I've left a spot on my seat!

Want to make a similar stain? Read this.

Things Better Not Said Aloud

2006-01-06T14:32:00.000-05:00

On Wednesday morning, while having coffee with my colleagues, I lamented about how I was running out of work to do. I shouldn't have said it out loud because now, on Friday, I'm absolutely swamped.

Lesson learned.

What's ok to mentally note is not ok to verbalize. I've angered the work gods. This will not end well.

Mixed Signals

2006-01-03T13:27:00.000-05:00

Benjy: "I miss Sweetie*. I hope she likes living at Gramma's for a while."
Trillian: "Me too."
B (smiling): "Remember that time we watched Sweetie open the pudding cup all by herself and eat it? She got so messy! You had to give her a bath. That was Sweetie's first bath!"
T: "Hmmm. I don't remember that. Are you sure that happened?**"
B: "Yeah."
T: "Are you sure it wasn't Daddy?"
B: "No! It was Sweetie! I remember the fur!"
Frankie (groaning): "Oh my God! How do you function?"

*Sweetie is our cat.
**This is not as strange a question as you might think. Benjy has vivid dream recall. Sometimes she confuses her dreams with reality.

We're Officially Homeless

2006-01-03T10:14:00.000-05:00

We moved out of our house yesterday. :(

We decided not to build because we would be homeless for 5 months, so we bought a beautiful home closer to my office. Unfortunately, we won't be moving in for 2 1/2 weeks.

In the mean time, we are renting a lovely cottage about an hour from my office and about 1/2 hour from the kid's school.

It wasn't hard leaving the house - we did it so quickly that we didn't have time to think about it. I'm thinking about it today, however. Someone else is moving into my house today. A house I chose and had built to my specifications. Someone will be changing things that I specifically picked out. Someone will be painting over colours I painstakingly selected. :(

[Sigh] On the other side of the coin, I'll be doing the same thing to someone else in a couple of weeks. :)

DNA on GWB

2005-12-23T10:16:00.000-05:00

As we watch our all-time favorite US president wiggle out of another impeachable offense, I find a certain Douglas Adams quote both fitting and chillingly accurate:

Anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job.

A Moral Unlike Asop's

2005-12-22T14:53:00.000-05:00

This is a story with a moral. And, unlike Asop, I will do you a favor and tell you the moral of this story right up front:

Before you give clothes away to charity, check the pockets.

It's a simple enough warning.

One wouldn't want to accidentally leave a valuable item in the pocket. A priceless broach, a favorite watch, a cell phone, cash. It would be a shame to lose any of these things.

But on the other end of the spectrum, one wouldn't want to leave something that might upset or disgust the individual on the receiving end. Who would want to find a dirty old tissue or a used candy bar wrapper in the pocket?

What if you gave away the ugliest shirt in your husband's closet, and by extension, unwittingly donated to charity his favorite novelty sex toy located in the breast pocket?

When you found out what you did, would you be embarrassed or find it really funny?

I'd have to say the latter. Not that I'd know anything about it...

Heard From the Back Seat Last Night

2005-12-16T09:44:00.000-05:00

Benjy: "I spy something that is white."
Frankie: "The snow."
B: "Right!"
F: "That's lame. I spy something that's annoying."
B (with a large smile): "Me?"
F: "You guessed it."
B: "I spy something that is stinky."
F: "Dad?'
B: "Right!"
F: "This is so lame, I'm not playing anymore."
B: "I spy something that is grumpy."
F: (No response).
B: "Hello?"

What have we done?

2005-12-12T13:11:00.000-05:00

We just sold our house today. Well, officially, it will be sold after 7:30 tonight when we sign the papers. Yippee! Kind of. The house sold way faster than we thought it would (6 days on the market), so we are without a home as of January 3rd! It looks like we're going to build, so we'll be living in temporary accommodations for the next four or five months. Should be interesting.

Wish me luck! Now, I've got to go pack (and finish shopping for Christmas).

The Litmus Test

2005-12-08T11:48:00.000-05:00

I thought I looked pretty good when I peered in the bedroom mirror. Sure, I wish the control top could have controlled a bit more. And wouldn't it be nice if my arms were a tidge more toned? But all in all, I thought I didn't look too bad.

Arthur said I looked nice. I thought it must be true because he kept grabbing at me. That's always nice for the ego.

I knew it was true, though, when I walked down the stairs and my five year old daughter drew her breath in and said, "Mommy, you look beautiful!" I have failed her litmus test in the past. She's like the Russian skating judge at the Olympics. Getting a 10 from her is an accomplishment.

So, off I went. Happily assured in the fact that I looked at least as good as Christmas Barbie.

Meep Meep

2005-11-30T09:59:00.000-05:00

It's a happy day in our neighbourhood when the corn field that backs on to many of our properties is harvested. It means that all of the coyotes that make it their home in late summer and fall have to find residence somewhere else. Most of us have lost small pets to them at some point or another. Both my neighbour and I lost a cat, and two small dogs have also been gobbled up. Needless to say, our new feline is strictly an indoor cat.

I always assumed (never a good thing, I know) that a coyote looked kind of like a big fox. Arthur never told me otherwise, as he didn't want to scare me. It wasn't until this summer when we were driving down a country road that I saw one trotting along the side of the street. They kind of look like a scraggly dog with a scruffy neck. In fact, they reminded me quite a bit of Wile E. Coyote.

Sadly, ever since I've seen the coyote, all I can think of is a cartoon coyote carrying ACME boxes into the corn field and creating elaborate traps to catch our unsuspecting pets. It makes it a little easier to deal with the fact that our first cat is no longer with us. My daughter, however, doesn't find it therapeutic at all. Once again, the parent-of-the-year committee will be skipping my house.

Giving Thanks

2005-11-25T16:12:00.000-05:00

Disney's Monsters on Ice is coming to town soon. While driving to work today, I got to wondering if I shouldn't buy tickets for the kids to take in this psuedo-cultural extravaganza. Sure, my 5 year old would like it, but would it just be another one of mom's lame ideas in the eyes of my 10 year old?

My mom took my younger sister to see Sesame Street on Ice when she was 5 and I was 10. I can't remember if my mom gave me the option of going, but I'm sure I would have declined in an ungrateful and disdainful fashion if she had offered.

I did, however, ask my little sister to say hi to Ernie for me. Bless her soul she did. I think that it speaks volumes about what a great sister she is. When given the great honour of shaking hands with Ernie, she used the moment to relay my message rather than to deliver her own. She's still like that. Maybe it's something about being the youngest sister, because my daughter's like that too.

Living in my own suburban life, and all its consumer ideals, I often overlook that special quality she has to give of herself in such a generous manner. Sometimes I'm even a bit critical of her selflessness. She shouldn't be so trusting and naive, I've thought. She shouldn't let those loser friends of hers crash on her couch and eat her food without paying her a dime, I've said.

She lives a very different life than me on a skihill in Banff. She hasn't let herself be shakled by the golden handcuffs of the North American consumer lifestyle. She does something she loves and doesn't worry about all the rest of the crap.

She makes a lot less than my husband or I do, yet I'm sure that if we were walking down the street and came across a homeless person, she would be more likely to give him/her more than I would. Which is something, considering how little she has.

So, in honor of the Thanksgiving holiday of our neighbors to the south, I say today - I love you, sis. I think you have a beautiful spirit and a warm and generous heart. And while you might sometimes drive me absolutely crazy, I give thanks for who you are every day.

If I didn't say it 25 years ago, thank you for saying hi to Ernie for me. Maybe Benjy will say hi to Mike Wazowski for Frankie, too.

Quote for the day

2005-11-18T08:14:00.000-05:00

We are here on Earth to do good to others. What the others are here for, I don't know.
W. H. Auden

George Boole is Rolling in His Grave

2005-11-15T15:24:00.000-05:00

Someone found my blog via this Google search:

instructions on how you make paper people holding hands

Hmmm. The librarian in me wants to tell them that:

"paper dolls" +("how to" OR "instructions")

would be a lot more effective.

Next I'm going to talk about Politics....

2005-11-15T11:55:00.000-05:00

As many of you know Arthur and I are agnostic, bordering on atheist. I would say I was an atheist, but it requires a level of faith, that frankly, I don't have. If I could muster that much faith, I would likely believe in one of the world religions. But, I still think that it's really important that my kids understand the different kinds of faiths that are practiced around the world. We have a few books for kids that describe different religions, and my kids find them academically interesting, if nothing else.

The small town in which we live is dominated by Portuguese Catholics and Dutch Christian Reformers. My daughter's caregiver is of the latter faith and the kids pray at meal time and learn the standard children songs (Jesus loves me, etc.). I don't really mind (obviously, since she's been going there for 4 years), as it exposes her to other belief systems. Also, her caregiver is what I would term a true Christian, in that she is very tolerant, non-judgmental, and a very good person. Rather rare as fundamental Christians go.

Frankie has a number of friends whose families attend church regularly. He has attended Pentecostal, Baptist, Catholic, and Christian Reform churches, and also attends a Christian camp every summer (the facilities are great, the activities are wonderful, and it's a good price - what can I say?). For a while he proclaimed that he was 75% Christian. I suggested that I should start taking him to church then, at which point he let me know, conveniently, that church-going was the 25% that he was not. He decided that the idea of God (or at least the Christian God) was a silly idea at about the same time that he stopped believing in Santa. Coincidence? Hmmm.

Benji, on the other hand, relishes "rebelling" against us by declaring herself a Christian. That's fine with me. Although, at 5, I don't think she has a great handle on the topic.

In the car the other day, Benji raised her hand and said, "Everyone who believes in God, raise your hand." Frankie and I declined. "Well," she said, "I believe in God, but I don't think I believe in Jesus."

Frankie was quick on the draw. "You believe in God, but not in Jesus?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied, "Jesus is just a nice guy. He's not God."

"Then you're not Christian," he said, "You're Jewish."

Semantics aside, he obviously took in more from those books than I thought.

We seem to have a longstanding reputation for being Jewish. When Arthur fist started his career in our town, he worked in an office that was swarming with fundamental Christians. They would discuss scripture in the lunch room and would constantly cast judgments about homosexuals, non-Christians, sinners, and the like. Political correctness not being thier strong suit, some of them would question Arthur about his faith. He stepped around the topic by just saying that he wasn't Christian. He is, however, a very good, ethical, kind, and spiritual person, so this, in the minds of his co-workers, was at odds with his lack of Christian faith. They made the assumption that he must be of a different faith. Because, apparently, it is impossible to be a good person without believing in something other than yoursel.

During the holidays, they would wish each other a "Merry Christmas" all around. When they got to Arthur, they would pause and say, "Happy Holidays" or "Happy Hanukkah." One of them said "Shalom, Arthur!" He never corrected them. I'm not sure what they think he is now. Likely just a pain in the ass.

Thank You!

2005-11-11T15:45:00.000-05:00

Lest we forget. Thank you, Vetrans!

Tell me Something I don't know

2005-11-10T16:18:00.000-05:00

You Belong in Paris

Stylish and a little sassy, you were meant for Paris.
The art, the fashion, the wine, the men!
Whether you're enjoying the cafe life or a beautiful park...
You'll love living in the most chic place on earth.

What City Do You Belong In?

Ok - so maybe I won't be going there this week or anything.

Too Late

2005-11-08T15:59:00.000-05:00

Your Fortune Is

To make a long story short, don't tell it.

The Wacky Fortune Cookie Generator

Hmmm. I think I got Jennie's fortune.

Overheard on Campus by a "Future Leader"

2005-11-08T15:42:00.000-05:00

I was walking behind a couple of students today with some obvious language barriers and overheard this gem of a conversation:

Future Leader 1: "I was watching a movie about Blah Blah Blah last night on CBC" (I couldn't hear that part)

Future Leader 2: "Oh. Was it a documentary?"

FL1: "No it was a movie. But it was about real people."

FL2: "Oh. Was it a docu-drama?"

FL1: "No, man. It was a movie."

Tagged!

2005-11-01T12:38:00.000-05:00

SxKitten tagged me. Here's what I'm supposed to do:

1. Go into your archives.
This appeals to my librarian senses.

2. Find your 23rd post.
Entitled "Old People and Cars Don't Mix"

3. Post the fifth sentence.

I can certainly understand why she was driving so fast - if you've only got a few years left on this earth, you'd likely be in a hurry to get everything done.

4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
I'm such a follower! Look at me following instructions!

5. Tag five other people to do the same thing.
I don't know if I have five friends...

Arthur
Steve
Wheelson
Mark
Rich

I'm not scary, apparently

2005-11-01T08:21:00.000-05:00

A day late, but oh well. Thanks for the link, Dean!

You Are Not Scary

Everyone loves you. Isn't that sweet?

How Scary Are You?

Sweet Oblivion

2005-10-31T13:13:00.000-05:00

While going through Frankie's school planner (the teacher makes us check off that he's done his homework and sign it - in blue ink only, please!) a couple of pieces of paper fell out. One was a field trip waiver for a field trip he had long ago been on(hmmm, apparently school liability wasn't a problem), and the other was a note from a girl. There was a cute drawing of her and him holding hands with two little kids. She had helpfully labeled the people: "Me", "Frankie", "Ashley" and "Frankie Jr.". It was signed XOXO P. + Frankie forever!

I nearly laughed out loud.

I asked Frankie about it. He said that P. had given it to him. I asked if he had read it. He said no. I asked him to. A look of shock and horror crossed his face. I suggested that maybe 10 was too young to have a girlfriend.

His reply?

"But, Mom! I didn't KNOW she was my girlfriend!"

Good grief! When do boys become less oblivious?

The Uncontestable NonContest

2005-10-17T10:34:00.000-04:00

Here's my entry in Dean's Uncontestable NonContest. I've also reprinted (with permission from the Author below). It won't make any sense unless you understand the Contest Rules (there are blessedly few).

I left her, well, them really, when she was only 12. That's the truth, although I don't admit it out loud. She and her mother just up and left one day – I don't know why. That's what I say when people ask. And technically, it's true. They did do the leaving. But only after I didn't come home for a few days. Maybe it was weeks. I don't remember everything from back then. Most of it is a sweet, amber haze.

I don't blame her mother, really. It was no life. She's better off. I wished they'd left some of my things, though. Some of my memories. All I have is this old photo. Of her. Of happier days. Of a trip I don't really remember. It's funny how a picture can lie. She loved me then. She did. Before she understood what a disappointment and embarrassment I am. Before I left them with no food, no money, while I drank my way to happiness. Oh, pictures lie.

She grew up. Found a man she could depend on. She forgot me. I can't forget her, though. I can't forget the way she looked up at me with childish faith. The way she believed I would take care of her. And later, the distrustful glances. The looks of an innocent betrayed. The unreturned phone calls. The unopened letters, returned. I can't take that back. But I can ease the pain with a nip or two.

She doesn't think I know what she's doing. But I do. She got married. She didn't tell me. I've got a couple of grandkids, too. Never seen them. But I saw her last summer, when I could still travel. Before my liver finally betrayed me. I came to say I was wrong. To tell her I'm sorry I let her down. She doesn't know. I couldn't tell her. To say it means admitting it. I just can't.

She knows. She must know. I hope she knows. She doesn't know. And I can't tell her.

I'm Still Alive

2005-10-04T12:31:00.000-04:00

Sorry for not posting for a while. I'm still alive, just crazy busy as I've recently changed jobs. I've gone back to project management. Silly girl. I'm climbing the learning curve right now. When I get to the other side, I'll start posting again.

Cheers!
Trillian

Pulitzer, Shmulitzer. I was on local television.

2005-09-27T20:20:00.000-04:00

I have a great family. My mom and sisters love me and are very supportive of what I do. Even if they don't understand exactly what it is that I do do. That's ok. They're supportive anyway. I tell them about my day and they get a glazed look on their faces, similar to the one I often sport when my big sis tries to explain the inner workings of pharmacology to me.

I often forward them links to publications that I've been interviewed for and quoted in, like the LA Times, Washington Post, Datamation, eWEEK, Line 56, and CRM Magazine. They sometimes send me a little email back and say, "Congratulations" (with two exclamation marks). Sometimes I remember to send them links to articles I've written for trade magazines. They are always very polite and supportive, even if they don't actually read the articles.

But should I happen to make a 3 second appearance in a tiny bit of footage on the local tv channel because of a charity walk I participated in, I'll get several excited calls and someone will actually tape it when it comes back on at 11!

I was going to make light of this and say that I don't get it, but I can't because I actually do.

My appearances in various journals and trade publications, as well as the articles that I write, are part of my professional life. It is a Trillian that they've never met. I might be very proud of that part of my life, but it's not a part that they have ever participated in or seen. That's not the Trillian that laughs too loud in the movie theatre or is constantly telling stories about Frankie and Benjy.

The chick that waddled past the tv crew at the charity walk? Ah. That's the Trillian that they know and recognize. And, so while it may seem funny that they get more excited about a chance appearance on a local news show than by coverage as an industry expert in an international publication, it all makes sense in a weird-ass, crazy, cosmically fucked-up way.

Know what? That's ok. I wouldn't trade them for coverage in Time Magazine.

Geek is the New Cool

2005-09-23T13:27:00.000-04:00

Dictionary.com has this to say about the word Geek:

A person regarded as foolish, inept, or clumsy.
A person who is single-minded or accomplished in scientific or technical pursuits but is felt to be socially inept.
A carnival performer whose show consists of bizarre acts, such as biting the head off a live chicken.

Do you remember when being a geek was a bad thing? I do. Being called a geek when I was in elementary and high school was a serious slap in the face. Today, however, the term is a badge of honor. Certainly, I wear the geek title with pride. And I enjoy associating with other geeks - more geeky than myself if possible.

How did this happen? When did it become cool to be a geek? I don't know the exact time, but near the end of my university tenure (mid-nineties for those of you who must know), being a geek was less of a stigma than being a nerd, a spaz, or a dweeb. The dot.com craze was sweeping the nation, and computer geeks were leading the way. Bill Gates and Steve Jobs were early champions of the geek is sheik phenomena. Geeks were quickly becoming millionaires, and the rest of the world was quick to see geeks in a new light. We've never looked back.

From a personal standpoint, I've always preferred geeks to mainstream people (i.e. those cool jocks and cheerleaders who have largely found that high school was the high point of their lives). Back in the day I didn't think of my friends as geeks, though. They were just interesting people that saw the world in a different way than most other people. I could identify with them. They were heaps more fun to talk to and their intelligent "in jokes" made me feel like part of a special club. I wouldn't have called myself a geek in high school, but I don't mind that moniker now. I embrace it. And most of the people that I hang out with now are self-professed geeks. And anyone who wouldn't call themselves a geek, I wouldn't want to have the title anyway. People who still think geek is lame are most likely lame themselves, in my humble opinion.

Embrace it, people: geek is the new cool.

Things that make me NOT A GOOD PERSON:

2005-09-19T15:29:00.000-04:00

I don't tell my co-workers when I'm going out for coffee because I don't want to have to get them anything.
Sometimes I throw out my kids' drawings when the drawer gets too full. I don't put them in the recycle bin because they might find them and take them out.
I think I'm smarter than most of the people I encounter every day.
I give whole blood because giving plasma is an inconveniently long process.
Even though I'm a woman, I usually assume that the slow/bad driver ahead of me is a woman (unless they're driving a Cadillac, Buick, Oldsmobile - which are old man cars).
I feel bad for other people because their kids aren't as cute as mine.
I think a lethal virus that took out most of the Wal-Mart-shopping population of North America would be a good thing.

This is why I like being a parent

2005-09-16T10:18:00.000-04:00

While rooting through my sock drawer for appropriate footwear (it's cold today), I found this note that Frankie left under his pillow last spring,

Dear tooth fary,

I lost my tooth down the drain today. I am really sorry abowt that.

Love,

Frankie

It put a smile on my face for the rest of the day.

Opossum sighting causes life re-evaluation

2005-09-14T12:21:00.000-04:00

Once in a while I receive information that shifts my perception of the world an eighth of a millimeter to the left. Information that makes me question my cognitive abilities. Information that makes me wonder what else I was wrong about. Information that would fall in this category include finding out that my ex-colleague was undergoing gender reassignment, the day I found out that my boyfriend of three years had been cheating on me for the entire span of our relationship, and learning the real meaning of the word "ignorant" in grade eight.

Today I had another such revelation when I saw a dead opossum on the side of the road. I mean, who knew that there were opossums in Southwestern Ontario? Where the hell did they come from? Have they always been here? How could I have gone for 34 years without knowing of their existence here?

All Time Favorite Rock 'n' Roll Lyrics

2005-09-09T14:13:00.000-04:00

I like these lyrics from Bruce Springsteen's Pink Cadillac because I can soooooooo picture Arthur saying them:

You may wonder how come I love you
When you get on my nerves like you do
Well baby, you know you bug me
There ain’t no secret about that

Fellow Bloggers, share with me your favorite lyrics!

Hobson's Choice

2005-08-31T12:36:00.000-04:00

A snippet from last evening's dinner conversation.

Frankie: "Mom, would you rather be killed by a pride of lions or an army of ants?"

Trillian: "Is there any chance of escape?" I've played this game before. I have to set the ground rules.

F: "None."

T: "Ok, then I'd have to go with the lions. It would be over faster."

F: "What if they were really old, decrepit lions with dull teeth?"

T: "It would still be faster than a bunch of ants."

F: "What if they were piranha-like ants..."

Work-Life Balance a Fraud

2005-08-29T15:17:00.000-04:00

Amy Schneider is disillusioned. After years of being told that she could have it all by ERA evangelists, guidance councilors, and countless cosmetic commercials, she has learned that she cannot have a six-figure career, be a PTA mother, and rival Martha Stewart as home-maker of the year.

"I just feel so lied to," says a disappointed Schneider. "I mean, the woman in the Enjoli commercial can do it all." According to Corporate Confidential: What it Really Takes to Get to the Top, women who take advantage of corporate work-life balance programs are less likely to make it to the top than those who sacrifice their home lives.

"Like, why didn't someone tell me that if I want to be a CEO I have to ignore my kids?" asks Schneider, who currently works as a data clerk for a Fortune 500 company with an excellent benefits plan. "Maybe the telecommuting policy should come with a warning or something."

Schneider's HR department states that it is currently reviewing her proposal to add a warning to the front of the Personnel Handbook that reads: "Warning: Face Time is Directly Proportional to Career Advancement."

I'm good, but not that good

2005-08-26T15:33:00.000-04:00

I don't pretend to be an organized parent. Especially in the mornings. That is why summer is a blessed event in my books. There's no getting lunches ready, or dragging the children out of bed to clean them up. There's no checking homework or signing permission slips. Except for the last two weeks. The children have been enrolled in day camp. Alas, our small town doesn't offer such a program, so I've been dragging them with me to the larger town in which I work and dropping them off before I head to the office.

The first couple of mornings I was prepared. I made them exciting lunches the night before, ensured that they each had a towel and bathing suit, and attempted to slather sun screen on them before we left the house. After that, however, things went downhill. I would sleep in. Or forget to make their lunches. Or forget to give them a towel. Or not send them with a hat.

Every day it's been something different. Luckily, my car is an amazing repository of "things that were never brought back in the house." On the day that it rained, I was able to produce an umbrella from under the passenger seat. On the day that there was a chill in the air, I rummaged around and found a couple of sweaters the children had left in the car. On the day that we forgot to bring hats, I miraculously found two in the trunk. I've even found extra sunscreen in the golf bag Arthur never took out of my trunk.

My children have come to think of my car as the bottomless well of day camp.

Yesterday it became readily apparent that we needed to do some grocery shopping. I was unable to pull together enough appropriate food to make a decent lunch. I announced to the children that we'd get something for them on the way to camp. I was thinking we'd stop at Tim Horton's and pick up some sandwiches or bagels or something.

My daughter looked at me with awe and asked, "You have extra lunches in your trunk?"

Keep It Going, Baby

2005-08-23T22:40:00.000-04:00

I'm as guilty as the next person for taking my car for granted. I drive about 90-100 km to and from work every day. It hurts when the price goes up to $1.03 /liter (that's $3.89/gallon). But Arthur and I have agreed for a while that gas prices going up is a good thing for our environment, and for technological innovation in transportation.

Think I'm crazy? Have a look at Carmi's column this week. I vividly remember the oil crisis of the 70's. I was in 3rd grade. We've had 30 years to come up with alternate fuel sources and innovative ways to transport people. We did nothing except buy obscenely larger SUVs. Necessity fuels innovation. I predict that in a couple of years Smart Cars and Prius's will be flooding the roads. And ethanol will be a common household word. I predict that automotive manufacturers will be investing significant R&D resources into new ways to power cars. I predict that the oil industry will finally lose the strangle hold it has on the Western world.

All we need is for gas to hit $2.00/liter. Keep it going, baby.

Photos from the Ear Falls trip

2005-08-23T22:06:00.000-04:00

An action shot. The unaffected tourists kind of ruined this shot.

2005-08-23T22:05:00.002-04:00

Yes, the water was cold.

2005-08-23T22:05:00.001-04:00

Change time zones, but never leave the province.

2005-08-23T22:05:00.000-04:00

These are the ones we didn't eat.

2005-08-23T22:04:00.002-04:00

Arthur's action shot.

2005-08-23T22:04:00.001-04:00

Frankie in the canoe on Rabbit Blanket

2005-08-23T22:04:00.000-04:00

Benjy on Rabbit Blanket Lake

Sweet, Sweet Slumber

2005-08-16T12:15:00.000-04:00

Saturday: Pitch camp at Rabbit Blanket Lake. I have a cot (v. comfortable), Arthur has a foam mat (he says it is v. comfortable), and the kids share a double air mattress. Awakened frequently through the night by Benjy, whose limbs are going to sleep. This is because her sleeping brother Frankie is continually rolling over on top of her, kicking her, or inadvertently pushing her off the mattress.

Sleep: 5 hours.

Sunday: Still at Rabbit Blanket. Arthur and I decide to take the mattress so we can isolate Frankie on the cot. Children sleep like a dream. Every time Arthur rolls over I am catapulted off the mattress. Until it springs a leak. Then our asses are on the ground. Also, old people in next camp snore very loudly. Their grandson wakes with the dawn. We hate these people.

Sleep: 4 hours.

Monday: Make it to Ear Falls. Whew that was a long drive! Arthur and I sleep in a trailer, Frankie in a spare room in Aunt J.'s house. We put Benjy in the trailer with us so she doesn't get scared if she wakes in the night. Have to share a tiny bed with Arthur. He sweats. I shiver. We both drank too much of Uncle B.'s homemade wine. Benjy wakes early.

Sleep: 5 hours.

Tuesday: I sleep on one side of the trailer, Arthur on the other. Sleep well until Benjy comes in screaming that we left her in the house. Mommy is crying because her head is splitting from the Mike's hard lemonade. And mommy seems to be coming down with something. Benjy is a sweaty child to sleep with.

Sleep: 4 hours.

Wednesday: Back in the trailer. Separate beds again. A little conjugal visit. No Benjy. Good sleep. Feel like crap, though.

Sleep: 7 hours.

Thursday: Leave a day early. Not feeling so great. Pitch camp at Sleeping Giant. Bought some new self-filling air mattresses. Don't really seem to "self-fill". Spend the night with my ass on the floor. Rains. A lot. 99% waterproof. The 1% not waterproof is right above me. Use my sleeping bag as an umbrella. Frankie finds a sticker in the morning that says mattresses must be inflated and deflated 7 times before first use. Will see the humor in this later. For now, try not to kill the messenger.

Sleep: 2 hours.

Friday: Still raining. Decide to keep driving all the way home from Sleeping Giant. 1,337 km. Start at 10AMish. Get home just before 3 AM. Hate and loathe driving. Covet the practical compactness of Western Europe. Shall petition when well again.

Sleep: 0 hours.

Saturday/Sunday/Monday: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Oh, sweet, sweet mattress. I shall never again take you for granted.

North of Winnipeg

2005-08-05T10:39:00.000-04:00

I'm going to be offline until the 15th. I'm going here. Wish me luck.

Why I live to be a parent

2005-08-04T14:06:00.000-04:00

When I opened the door, I nearly passed out from the odor. It was as if I'd walked into the Ape House at the Detroit Zoo. One of the children had left the window open, allowing 90 degree heat to waft in to the otherwise air conditioned bathroom. The guilty party had left the door closed, allowing the heat to intensify the stink. And, much to my delight, one of my children had left a huge present in the toilet to marinate for ten hours in the intense heat.

Parenthood is clearly a gift from the gods.

The Three-Day Weekend

2005-08-02T16:45:00.000-04:00

No one knows the three-day weekend like Canadians. We may have even have invented the concept. If not, we've adopted it as our own, and have perfected it. If there is a public holiday, Canada will find a way to make it happen on a Monday.

Good Friday, Easter Monday, Victoria Day, Labour Day, Thanksgiving, and the August civic holiday are all three-day weekend events. Piss on the mid-week holiday, is our motto here. If only we could get Christmas, Boxing Day, and New Year's Day to fall in line.

Canada Day (July 1) used to be cause for a long weekend, but a recent push to celebrate it as American's celebrate Independence Day (on the actual day) has ruined this worthy tradition.

And really - why get caught up on a number. Who cares if Canada Day is really on the 1st. Why not celebrate it on the closest Monday, as we do Queen Victoria's birthday?

What do you think? Don't three-day weekends make more sense than a mid-week day off?

Why do/does...

2005-07-29T12:25:00.000-04:00

Tim Hortons workers look at me like I have two heads when I say that, in fact, it isn't ok if they substitute a white bun for the whole wheat I ordered?
I feel it necessary to say "Bless You" when people sneeze, when, really, I have no authority to bless anyone?
my husband think that "macaroni salad" is the same thing as "cold orzo and snow pea salad."
I feel it necessary to make lists all the time?
some people give so much unsolicited advice? If you're on the receiving end, can you offer back unsolicited advice, such as, "don't give unsolicited advice. People don't like it."?

That's the kind of day I'm having

2005-07-28T11:52:00.000-04:00

On my last visit to the loo I noticed that my underwear was inside out. But it was too much effort to change it, so I didn't.
Today is Frankie's birthday, but we didn't tell him because he already had his party on the weekend and we didn't want to create expectations of more presents.
It's lunchtime and I'm hungry, but it's too much work to get up and microwave my can of soup. So I'll just sit here with my stomach growling.

The perks of insanity

2005-07-27T10:39:00.000-04:00

I saw a man crossing the street downtown today. OK, to be fair, I see lots of men cross the street on any given day. This one, however, caught my attention because he was wearing green tiedie shorts that were several sizes too small and a woman's shirt with black and white vertical stripes accented with a red diagonal stripe, commonly seen in the 80's. His hair was askew, his beard long and natty. He was being helped across the street by a lovely, sane-looking woman.

And what should go through my head at that moment, other than the fact that I think I once owned a shirt like that? "Wow, it must be so liberating to be insane. You can wear anything you want and still get walked across the street by a pretty girl. I wear mismatched socks one day and get ridiculed by my peers."

I'm thinking about setting new expectations at work tomorrow by showing up unwashed in my pajamas. What do you think?

I'm back

2005-07-25T12:19:00.000-04:00

Whew. I have hit the "too much of a good thing" threshold in my life this week. So much has gone on that I cannot possibly post about it and expect you, dear reader, to read more than the first few paragraphs before wandering off to a more interesting blog.

Here is my abridged week:

New York is like hell, but with a really good restaurant and theatre scene.
If people laugh when you say you're going to drive through downtown Manhattan, take the hint.
If you wish hard enough that an old friend has gained weight so that you don't have to feel bad about your own size, it will come true.
Allowing your wife to take the vacation pictures will result in blurry photos of Rupert Gee.
Detours on upstate New York highways are not straightforward. Be prepared to make many U-turns.
Tipping the camp counselor can help increase the chance that your son will take a shower while there.
Cats pooh on your carpet when they are angry that you left them behind.
Don't tell your daughter that you're inviting Daniel's parents over for a cookout if the neighbor's son is also named Daniel. She will invite them, and you will be surprised when they arrive.
Getting together with your closest friends for dinner is as close to the perfect evening as you can get. But how can 4 couples have 10 kids between them, with a boy to girl ratio of 9:1?
Don't be surprised if your sister asks you to be the godmother to her daughter even though you're an atheist. Be amused that when she gets around to baptizing her 11 years later, she realizes her folly and unasks you.
10 year old boys are silly, stinky, messy, loud, and absolutely wonderful. Get invited to their birthday parties. Better yet, host one. You won't be disappointed.

Rocky Road goes to Camp

2005-07-18T10:19:00.000-04:00

Frankie is away at camp this week. It's a bitter-sweet experience to take him there. On the one hand, I'm so excited for him, because I know he enjoys it so much. On the other hand, I worry that it will rain all week, that he'll come home with a horrible disease, or worse, that he won't make any friends.

As you may know, Frankie marches to his own beat most of the time. He is such an outgoing and innocent kid that he sometimes doesn't notice when "cool" kids find him lame. That's mostly a good thing, I guess. But, no one wants their kid to be mocked or ostracized.

I can't believe I'm even admitting to this, considering some of my previous posts about the importance of Rocky Road, but I took special care to pack non-geeky clothing and non-loser games. I packed on the Vanilla side of the spectrum for the week. Frankie didn't notice. He was just happy he didn't have to pack.

As we were walking up to the cabin, Arthur noticed that Frankie's pillow tag was poking out of the pillow case, quite prominently displaying the "Laura Ashley" brandname for all the world to see. He stopped in the parking lot to flip the pillow around.

"All he needs is to be branded 'Laura' all week," Arthur commented. Ten year-old boys can be very cruel. Frankie, however, was completely oblivious.

We walked into the cabin, and Frankie had a minor heart attack when his friend (whom we call Shaggy) wasn't already there. A look of absolute terror gripped him for a couple of seconds, then he composed himself, and asked his cabin head if Shaggy had checked-in yet. Turns out that he was in the bunk next to Frankie, and was just off exploring the campground with his parents. Whew. Minor crisis averted.

Next, in came a rather rotund little boy clutching his pillow and bag. His mother, who was similar in shape to her son, spread out his sleeping bag on his bunk. At that moment, I am ashamed to admit, my worries for Frankie vanished. The boy had brought a Winnie-The-Pooh sleeping bag and pillow to camp. Even Frankie noticed this.

If anyone was going to be picked on this week, it wouldn't be Frankie. Thank the gods for thoughtless, over-protective mothers of fat children.

Truly, if there is one, I am going to hell.

Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam!

2005-07-15T09:39:00.000-04:00

I'm not telling you this to make you jealous. I'm sharing this information to make you GREEN WITH ENVY!

Next week, while Frankie is at summer camp, Benjy is with her favorite sitter, and the cat is at Grandma's, Arthur and I will be in Manhattan to see Spamalot. Orchestra D. If you don't know what Spamalot is, then you really have no business on my blog. Hit the Next Blog button immediately. Go. Get!

Are they gone? Good. Fricken troglodytes.

Seriously, though. Arthur and I are quite excited about the whole affair. Neither of us have been to Manhattan, and thus obviously have never taken in a Broadway production.

We also haven't been on a roadtrip without the kids for about 10 years. We used to absolutely love going on long drives together. We'll get to spend 10 hours there, and another 10 back again. If you don't hear from me by next weekend, someone call the State Patrol to have a look on I-81 to see if we've killed each other.

Wish me fun and luck!

"I don't want to talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries. "

Eddies in the Space Time Continuum

2005-07-12T14:56:00.000-04:00

I've got nothing today. So, I'll borrow from the illustrious DNA.

From Life, The Universe, And Everything:

"Arthur felt happy. He was terribly pleased that the day was for once working out so much according to plan. Only twenty minutes ago he had decided he would go mad, and now here he was already chasing a Cherterfield sofa across the fields of prehistoric Earth."

Walking the Rocky Road

2005-07-11T09:39:00.000-04:00

I have mentioned in the past that my son is not a Vanilla person. He's Rocky Road all the way. It's both a blessing and a curse for him (and us). And, as much as I think that long term, he'll do amazing things with his life, the here and now can be very difficult. While every adult that meets him comments on what an interesting and intelligent child he is, he's nearly failing out of school.

It's been a long struggle for us to help him develop strategies for coping with his specially-wired brain. He has a million thoughts running through it all the time. This becomes readily apparent when he changes the question he's asking me two or three times in mid-sentence. It's very frustrating for him and me. I worry that the world won't give him the patience he deserves.

I know there are stimulants that can help his thoughts "get in line" (as a former ADD colleague and child Ritalin user used to say), but for us, that isn't something we're ready to resort to just yet. I've heard some success stories and an equal number of disasters. We've tried super doses of Omega 3, extra homework help, individual education plans, and a host of other techniques. All with limited success.

The latest, and most expensive, experiment is eeg neurofeedback.

We're meeting with a psychologist on Thursday to discuss beginning him on 40 45-minute sessions. Basically, they attach eeg stickers to his head to monitor his alpha, beta, and theta brain waves, and hook the eeg to a computer that plays games. As he plays the games, he is rewarded for producing more beta waves. It is supposed to teach the brain to increase its use of beta waves, which is normally the difficulty for kids with attentional issues. It gets progressively more difficult, but is supposed to have an 85% success rate in treating the symptoms of ADD. And, unlike drugs, it's lasting - especially when done with children.

I have my doubts on whether or not it will work. But, I think we really do have to try everything we can. I'd feel horrible if I knew there was something that we could have done to make his life a little easier and we didn't. That being said, I'm not complete naive. I plan on negotiating some benchmarks and performance metrics into our contract, so that if it isn't working, we don't get stuck paying 100% of the bill (luckily, our benefits cover about 1/4 of it).

I also worry that this therapy might take away his Rocky Road-ness, which would be a tragedy. But, on the same token, his current state is causing his self-esteem no end of harm. Ahhh. The joys of parenthood. Tough decisions and heart break at every corner!

Has anyone heard anything about eeg neurofeedback (or eeg biofeedback)? Any anecdotes or information on personal experiences would be great.

Lose Some, Lose Some

2005-07-07T15:12:00.000-04:00

It was a sad week for London Ontario, having lost the new Shriner's Children's Hospital bid to Montreal. Those wily Francophones outsmarted us at the last minute.

On the plus side, we beat out Paris for the 2012 Olympic Games, so that's something, I guess.

Oh. Wait a second...

Gone Fishing

2005-06-30T09:24:00.000-04:00

An early "Happy Canada Day" to those Canadians out there. And a very early "Happy Independence Day" to all my American neighbours.

We're off to go camping and fishing for the long weekend. I'll return to my regularly scheduled programming on Wednesday.

Cheers,
T.

Free Falling

2005-06-21T10:20:00.000-04:00

There are certain things that you might do as a small child that you learn not to do as you get older. Like soil your pants or pick your nose in public. For girls of a certain age, going without a bra in public is also on the list.

My sister, who calls Banff her home is in town right now. As it is still snowing on the mountain there, she has very few opportunities to go swimming in a lake. So, last night we drove to a beach on Lake Huron that isn't more than 25 minutes from our home.

The water was beautiful. We swam out until it was quite deep and just tread water for the good part of an hour. There are few things I enjoy more than swimming in a lake. It is the main reason I aspire to own a piece of waterfront property and a simple dock some day. Glorious.

As we swam back to shore, however, something occurred to me. I had given my sister my only bathing suit and had chosen to wear a t-shirt and an old pair of Arthur's swimming trunks in the water, myself. As I emerged from the water, I realized that I had worn my sports bra in, too. It was soaking wet. I had no dry bra to change into. I had to do the UNTHINKABLE. I went braless.

If we had simply been driving straight home, that wouldn't have been a concern. But, we walked up the main street of the little town and stopped for ice cream (because that is what you do at the beach). My girls were happily bouncing around, free of their 20-year bondage.

At first, I did what any well-endowed braless woman would do: I crossed my arms in front of my chest. But, it's hard to eat ice cream that way. I realized two things:

I didn't know any of these people, so what did it matter if my breasts jiggled around a little under my shirt.
It's REALLY quite comfortable to be free.

I'm not saying I'm going to burn all my bras, but I've got to say that taking the girls for a walk without a leash was pretty liberating. I might just do it again some time.

Speed Cubin'...OK, Just Cubin'

2005-06-14T17:50:00.000-04:00

One of the great perks of my job is that I get to spend a few days every week just looking through tech e-zines. Whilst spinning through the ether of the Net, I came across a Wired article about how Speed Cubing (i.e. solving the Rubik's Cube) really fast is back "in." It also mentioned that there are many sites that publish algorithms for solving the cube.

I'm a lover of puzzles. So, this article made me want to dig out the old Rubik's Cube and try to solve it. But, I couldn't find the cube. I searched through the kid's stuff in the basement, in all of the closets, in my junk drawers (yes, I have more than one), and even went through my children's closets. It was to no avail. Finally, I called upon my secret weapon. I pronounced that whoever found the Rubik's Cube first could have $2. Frankie found the thing inside 5 minutes! That kid is SOOOO motivated by cash that I'm starting to get worried. He's going to be the kid who bunjee jumps off the school because someone said they'd give him $100.

Anyway - I have to confess that I've never been able to solve the thing before. I remember watching That's Incredible! when I was a kid, and staring in awe as the speed cubers solved the cubes in under a minute. I was never that kid.

Thankfully, there are some really good beginner sites on the Internet now that walk you through the strategy of solving the cubes, and what to look for as you go. It's pretty fun. The first time, it took me quite a while to solve (I don't like to blame my tool, but my cube is a cheap ripoff that doesn't turn very well).

Last night, I triumphantly solved the cube and showed everyone in the house. Not one minute after I solved it, Benjy grabbed it and scrambled it again. [Sigh].

The good news is, I've been able to repeat the process, and now it's become something of an obsession. Once I've mastered the beginner's techniques, I plan to start trying the intermediate algorithms that help you solve the cube in under 30 seconds.

For now, I'm just happy that I can finally say I have solved the Rubik's Cube.

Mapping the Great Gender Divide With Lego

2005-06-07T14:28:00.000-04:00

As I watch my children create grand and glorious concoctions with their 6L bin of Lego (with the odd Megablock thrown into the fray), I can’t help but notice that the chasm between male and female interests begins so early.

My son works with a frenzied passion to create an elaborate (if somewhat impractical) galactic space cruiser, replete with its own armada of nimble single-man fighters and intricate weapons systems.

My daughter, on the other hand, is bent on putting together a small abode for her homeless Polly Pockets girls. The sheer number of powder rooms that she feels are necessary to keep peace in the residence is of interest. So are the closets. One is bigger than the paltry kitchen she has designed.

And so it begins. The Great Gender Divide. Boys build spaceships and girls build houses. My son wants to explore. My daughter wants to nest. My son wants excitement. My daughter wants amenities. My son craves risk. My daughter craves greater closet space.

I had no idea it started so early.

Ten Most Harmful Books of the 19th and 20th Centuries

2005-06-03T15:32:00.000-04:00

My colleague G sent this, and it was too good to pass up:

Ten Most Harmful Books of the 19th and 20th Centuries
Brought to you by Human Events Online, The National Conservative Weekly.

The Communist Manifesto
Mein Kampf
Quotations from Chairman Mao
The Kinsey Report
Democracy and Education
Das Kapital (Marx should feel honored for getting two mentions)
The Feminine Mystique
The Course of Positive Philosophy
Beyond Good and Evil
General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money

Hmmm. If I had to pick the all time most harmful book ever created, I'd have to say it was the Bible. In terms of the number of people who've been alienated or killed in the name of God, I think that book's got a corner on the market.

In good conservative fashion, however, it made the top of the Ten Books Every Student Should Read in College list. I don't know about you, but I was certainly reading a lot of Job and Leviticus when I was a sophomore.

Highway 404

2005-05-30T15:21:00.000-04:00

This is the best 404 error I have seen in a while:

You have reached Highway 404. In GeekSpeak, this means that you have reached the right website, but we've obliterated or renamed or moved the page you sought so earnestly. Don't be disappointed. It's just the Web. However, you might find what you're looking for in one of the following areas. Or you can ask our search engine nicely.

More lists

2005-05-25T15:33:00.000-04:00

I'm taking up Carmi's challenge. AND I tag Dean and Eddie.

The total volume of music files on my computer:
About 700 mg. I recently reformatted my hard drive (SP2-related issue) and moved my songs onto DVD. So, I've only got what is on my iTunes right now.

The last CD I bought was:
Yikes. I bought my 13 year-old nephew Led Zeppelin II and the Beastie Boy's To the 5 Boroughs for his birthday last summer. That's it. I, um, share files sometimes.

Song playing right now:
I've got my iPod Shuffle going right now, and I wanted it to be on Misty Mountain Hop when I wrote this, but it has since gone on to Tears for Fears' Head Over Heels. Misty Mountain Hop would have been cooler.

Five songs I listen to a lot or mean a lot to me, in no particular order:
Yellow (Cold Play). I just really like this song. Also - this is one of my daughter's favorite songs, and musically speaking, it's nice to share that kind of stuff. She also loves Macy Gray, Avril Lavigne, and the Chad Kroeger song in Spiderman.

Misty Mountain Hop (Led Zeppelin). This song rocks. I can't explain why I like Zeppelin and The Who, but can't listen to Pink Floyd even if you paid me. It's one of life's little mysteries.

Catch (The Cure). It takes me back to my youth when I had a Robert Smith-eque hair-do (except blonde) and dated tall skinny guys who wore the same size jeans as I did (boy, how times change!). I could always put on lipstick better than him, though.

Bobcaygeon (The Tragically Hip). Another beautiful song. Actually, anything by these guys is great.

Have You Ever Seen The Rain? (CCR). I'm a redneck by birth.

Yeah, I'm a liar. So sue me.

2005-05-24T16:42:00.000-04:00

Ok. I know I just said that I wasn't going to post very much for a while, and now, here I am posting again on the very same day, but a colleague sent me this link and I thought it would interest many of the people who read this blog.

EPIC 2014

This is a flash presentation that is set in 2014 and describes an institution or service called EPIC. It's about 8 minutes long. I think the ideas are pretty interesting and presented in a compelling format. Check it out and tell me what you think.

Away from Blog Auto Reply

2005-05-24T09:19:00.000-04:00

As most of you have noticed, my posting lately has been sporadic at best. My offline life is interfering with my online one, and that's probably a good thing!

I won't be posting very much from now until September. But I'll still be reading your blogs!

Happy summer.

Trillian

Why God Made Moms...

2005-05-11T09:07:00.000-04:00

I recieved this from a friend and thought it was so cute that I had to pass it on. I doubt that it's authentic, but who cares, it's cute anyway!

"Why God made Moms," answers given by 2nd grade school children to the following questions.

Why did God make mothers?

1. She's the only one who knows where the scotch tape is.

2. Mostly to clean the house.

3. To help us out of there when we were getting born.

How did God make mothers?

1. He used dirt, just like for the rest of us.

2. Magic plus super powers and a lot of stirring.

3. God made my Mom just the same like he made me. He just used bigger parts.

What ingredients are mothers made of?

1. God makes mothers out of clouds and angel hair and everything nice in the world and one dab of mean.

2. They had to get their start from men's bones. Then they mostly use string, I think.

Why did God give you your mother and not some other Mom?

1. We're related.

2. God knew she likes me a lot more than other people's moms like me.

What kind of little girl was your Mom?

1. My Mom has always been my Mom and none of that other stuff.

2. I don't know because I wasn't there, but my guess would be pretty bossy.

3. They say she used to be nice.

What did Mom need to know about Dad before she married him?

1. His last name.

2. She had to know his background. Like is he a crook? Does he get drunk on beer?

3. Does he make at least $800 a year? Did he say NO to drugs and YES to chores?

Why did your Mom marry your Dad?

1. My dad makes the best spaghetti in the world. And my Mom eats a lot.

2. She got too old to do anything else with him.

3. My grandma says that Mom didn't have her thinking cap on.

Who's the boss at your house?

1. Mom doesn't want to be boss, but she has to because dad's such a goof ball.

2. Mom. You can tell by room inspection. She sees the stuff under the bed.

3. I guess Mom is, but only because she has a lot more to do than dad.

What's the difference between Moms and Dads?

1. Moms work at work and work at home, & dads just go to work at work.

2. Moms know how to talk to teachers without scaring them.

3. Dads are taller & stronger, but moms have all the real power cause that's who you got to ask if you want to sleep over at your friend's. Moms have magic, they make you feel better without medicine.

What does your Mom do in her spare time?

1. Mothers don't do spare time.

2. To hear her tell it, she pays bills all day long.

What would it take to make your Mom perfect?

1. On the inside she's already perfect. Outside, I think some kind of plastic surgery.

2. Diet. You know, her hair. I'd diet, maybe blue.

If you could change one thing about your Mom, what would it be?

1. She has this weird thing about me keeping my room clean. I'd get rid of that.

2. I'd make my Mom smarter. Then she would know it was my sister who did it and not me.

3. I would like for her to get rid of those invisible eyes on her back of her head.

Future Therapy Fodder

2005-05-09T13:47:00.000-04:00

I've said it before. I'm not the best mom. While I may get an A for effort, it will be up to my son's future therapist to decide whether or not I'm responsible for all of his neurosis. Let me explain.

Frankie and Benjy decided to take me to see Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (again) for Mother's Day. When I say take, I mean that they came with me and allowed me to pay. It was a beautiful day, and I suggested that we go mini golfing instead, since I'd already seen the movie. But to no avail. They both wanted to see it. So off we went.

There were only about 10 or 20 people in the theatre (as I'd mentioned, it was a gorgeous day) so we had our pick of seats. We sat in the middle middle. We got our popcorn and contraband candy. I was helping Benjy into her special plastic booster seat when I looked over and was horrified to find Frankie with his finger knuckle-deep into his nose (even writing it now makes me want to gag). I said (perhaps too loudly, in retrospect, considering how quiet it was in the theatre):

"Look, you're not going to share my popcorn if you're going to pick your nose!"

The whole theatre broke into laughter, and poor Frankie sat there mortified, protesting, that he was just scratching an inside itch. We negotiated a hand wash disguised as a restroom break and life went on. Hopefully he won't be traumatized for the rest of his life. For now, it makes a cute little anecdote.

Poetry-Like

2005-05-03T12:51:00.000-04:00

Soooo, my 5 year-old is in a poetry recital based on this little gem that she made up for her junior kindergarten class:

My flower's pink.
It doesn't stink.
It smells so good.
Like it should.

Look out Robert Frost.

The MOVIE Assessment

2005-05-02T08:41:00.000-04:00

So...
I saw it. And, like Wheelson, I'm trying not to compare it to the books. It was a pretty good movie on its own - I'd give it a 3.5 out of 5 on its own merit.

My favorite part was when they were painting the Grand Canyon. And I really liked the sighing doors and Eddie the Ship Computer. Also - Slartibartfast kicked ass.

1. It has been dumbed down somewhat for the mass market.
2. All of the characters other than Trillian are excellent. I'm not sure if it was Zoey or the writing, but Trillian is very one-dimensional.
3. Those who haven't read the books won't understand some of the things the characters do (i.e. the whole towel thing, why they keep putting on their sunglasses, why they smash the pretty crabs, etc.)
4. Those who haven't read the books won't get annoyed that they cut out all the best come back lines (i.e. "Yeah," said Zaphod with a sudden evil grin, "you'd just have to program it to say What? and I don't understand and Where's the tea? - who'd know the difference?")
5. It looks like they've totally left it open to do the next, er, book/movie.
6. The opening sequence was killer. I'm still singing the damn song!

Finally!

2005-04-29T08:52:00.000-04:00

Well, as you are aware (and those of you who aren't: shame on you), Hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy (the movie) opens today. I have mixed feelings on it. I was really excited when they were filming the movie, but my optimism has been taking a downward spiral the last couple of weeks as reviews have come in. I'm taking M.J. Simpson's review with a grain of salt at this point. I read the biography he did of DNA, and quite honestly, the man has no sense of humor.

I also have to keep in mind that the books were different from the radio plays, which were different from the t.v. shows, which were different from the records, which were different from the radio play scripts. Each incarnation of HHGTG has been different, and so we cannot expect the movie to rigidly adhere to the books. Also - DNA wrote most of the script, so this is his vision. Also - it's just a f@#king movie.

Arthur and I will be going out tonight to see it. If it's appropriate, we'll take Frankie, as he loved the books (and he thinks Mos Def is the 'bomb' ever since he saw the Italian Job).

Here's me crossing my fingers, and hoping for the best.

Cat observations

2005-04-27T17:34:00.000-04:00

Frankie has adopted the mantra "Stupid, Stupid Rat People!" for expressing his exasperation with people and things that don't meet his expectations. It gets directed at the cat quite a bit. She is not the intellectual giant we had hoped she might be. She tries to crawl through his pajamas while he's still wearing them - which can be both annoying and painful, depending on the pant style.
10 points to anyone that can name its origin (without Googling it!!)

Benjy took it upon herself to decorate the cat with sparkles yesterday. I will admit that she did look nice, but I'm not sure the cat agreed. Benjy was surprised to find the cat sparkle-free this morning. I took the opportunity to educate her on the hazards of sprinkling non-digestible items on an animal that licks itself. She seems to have absorbed the information with understanding and grace.

Give and Take

2005-04-22T14:00:00.000-04:00

First off - so sorry for my lack of posting. I've been working really hard at writing stuff offline and also, my real life keeps getting in the way of my virtual life, and well, it's higher on the triage.

Topic of the day: Givers and Takers. Which one are you?

As a librarian, I'm innately predisposed to categorizing things. One of the things I've noticed (working in a predominantly sales-oriented company) is that you can categorize people as either givers or takers. Sure, there are those that strike a nice balance between giving and taking, but I find that most people tend to lean further one way than the other.

While this is a horrible generalization, I find that sales people tend to be takers. Which is fine, that's just the way it is. People in support roles tend to be givers. Women are usually givers more than men, but it's not always true. I've also found that being a mother doesn't seem to make you more predisposed to being a giver, either.

So - what's a giver and a taker? I think you can likely figure it out.

Givers tend to want to help people - to solve their problems. They supply more than they demand. They tend not to ask for much, even if they actually want or need something. Givers are not necessarily nicer people than takers. They can be resentful and nasty, and often dole out large plates of guilt. They are more sensitive to the words and actions (or inactions) of others, and generally expect more out of (and are usually more disappointed with) humanity than takers.

Takers, especially when it's most extreme case, take everything they can from the system. They will find every loophole they can to get more, and they don't mind asking for things if it will help them out. Takers don't usually think about how their actions might affect others. They also tend to be less sensitive to the world around them. Again, takers are not better or worse than givers, they're just different. They tend not to expect as much from humanity, as a whole, and have a "look out for #1" attitude as a result.

As I mentioned, some people are able to strike a nice balance. Most are not. I, for one, tend to fit the giver model more, although I have found that as I have taken on some taker qualities over the years. Arthur, on the other hand, is a classic taker, with some latent giver qualities that pop up at unexpected times. It seems to work well for us (most of the time).

In my household, a classic giver-taker debacle creeps up every year around this time. My birthday is quite near. One thing that will make or break my day is to be told "Happy Birthday" the minute I wake up. I know - it's pathetic. But my mom, a classic giver, never disappoints. She calls first thing in the morning - often before Arthur gets up, to wish me a happy birthday. Then my older sister - another classic giver, will call within seconds.

Arthur has struggled with this for years. He often doesn't think to wish me a happy birthday until after work (at which point it doesn't count, in my opinion). He doesn't expect a first-thing-in-the-morning happy birthday greeting himself, so in typical taker style, it doesn't occur to him that I would. Of course, being a giver, I'm hyper-sensitive to his actions, and read more into his non-birthday-wishing than is actually there. 'Clearly', goes my irrational logic, 'my mother and sister love me more than Arthur, who is still selfishly curled up in bed'.

One might think that my recognition and rationalization of this whole scenario would bring a more enlightened and jovial perspective to the big day. Sadly, this isn't the case. I believe Arthur's answer to the problem this year is not to get up earlier to wish me a happy birthday, but to unplug the phone before we go to bed! Whatever works.

Anyway - I put the question out there - which are you: a giver or a taker?

I love deadlines....

2005-04-12T11:38:00.000-04:00

I write articles (among other things) for IT publications for a living. One thing I’ve finally learned is that I’m highly deadline-motivated*. If there isn’t a defined deadline or milestone, you might as well forget about receiving output from me. I finally made the mental connection that my novel will never get finished if I don’t put some real deadlines with hard consequences in place.

To this end, I’ve committed to producing 10 pages per week, due every Monday. The consequence for under- or non-delivery is the revocation of my debit card. Harsh, I know. But the thought of not being able to have my morning Timmy’s or a Wendy’s Mandarin Chicken Salad might just be the impetus I need. Last night was the first day of the new rules, and I produced my required 2 pages. Not the best quality I every put out by a long shot, but my plan is just to spew it out and then edit it. If I get caught up on every adjective and metaphor I’ll never get through it.

Wish me luck!

*Which leads me to my favorite Douglas Adams quote: "I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by."

Women learn so early

2005-04-11T09:59:00.000-04:00

My saintly Tai Bo instructor battles with her 3rd bout of uterine cancer (after she goes to camp with her severely disabled son and has surgery on her eye - a complication of her diabetes) - yeah, I'm not kidding. She remains the most inspiring and motivational person I know. Yikes! I want to be a better person just for knowing her.

Until she recovers (which she assures us she will) I have taken up power walking with my friend and neighbor. We only go 5km right now, but I'm hoping to up it in another week. We go every night at 8pm. Last night, while I prepared to go, I realized the true extent of the guilt power my 5 year old daughter possesses. She looked at me all sad eyed, and said in her little angle voice, as she reached her hand out to mine "Mommy. Why do you like Vanessa more than me?"

Yowzer! Kids perceive things so differently than adults, don't they?

Me, me, and more me

2005-04-07T13:44:00.000-04:00

Like most women, I like it when a conversation is focused squarely on me. I'm not that picky on what, exactly, we talk about (me), just as long as the main focus is yours truly. Last night, while sitting on the couch with a nice Merlot chatting with Arthur, I could feel the conversation moving swiftly away from my favorite topic. In order to pull it back, I had to do some quick thinking. I needed a topic that addressed Arthur's vast opinion buckets, while still focusing mostly on me.

"What about me really gets under your skin?" I blurted out.

Arthur smiled the knowing smile of someone who knows that they are about to step into a pit of angry rattlesnakes, but does it anyway, for kicks and giggles.

"Not a lot," he replied, "but you do leave your shoes all over the house."

I thought, for a moment, about getting angry and denying it, but realized that:

a) I'd introduced the topic, and
b) It might be true.

I did a quick walk through of the house, and found no less than 6 pair of shoes laying around where they didn't belong.

My casual mules were in the kitchen.
My running shoes were on the stairs.
My once great, but now mostly for gardening Pradas were in the foyer.
My favorite black backless pumps were laying in the library.
My slippers were in the hall.
My black boots were in the laundry room.

All but the slippers should have been resting comfortably in the front hall closet. Apparently, I'm no longer allowed to angrily accuse people of leaving their shoes out where I can trip over them.

I hate it when Arthur is so smugly correct. On the bright side, I got to spend the better part of 20 minutes thinking solely about me.

Some heavy thinking masked as jovial levity

2005-04-06T12:31:00.000-04:00

One of my colleagues is a very spiritual person. Actually, several of them are, but this one in particular is very educated, very spiritual, very Christian (in the true sense of the meaning), and has a level of faith that I'm not accustomed to seeing. I have a tremendous amount of respect for him, even though we don't agree on a number of issues. We inadvertently began talking about the existence of God the other day (I know, I know: how incredibly inappropriate to discuss at work!), and something he said made me think for a second. He said that the world was very obviously purposefully and deliberately created by a higher power, or something to that effect.

I knew there was a flaw in that statement, but of course I couldn't come up with it at the time. So in true George Kastanza form, I'll give my very late come-back now:

One of my favorite Douglas Adams quotations, from Richard Dawkin's "Lament for Douglas" goes something like this:

. . . imagine a puddle waking up one morning and thinking, 'This is an interesting world I find myself in - 'fits me rather neatly, doesn't it? In fact it fits me staggeringly well, must have been made to have me in it!' This is such a powerful idea that as the sun rises in the sky and the air heats up and as, gradually, the puddle gets smaller and smaller, it's still frantically hanging on to the notion that everything's going to be alright, because this world was meant to have him in it, was built to have him in it; so the moment he disappears catches him rather by surprise.

And in the world of geek...

2005-04-05T15:02:00.000-04:00

I'm a professional Librarian (even though I've never actually worked in a library), so I'm allowed to make fun of them.

I saw a number of good April 1st pranks out there last Friday. Motley Fool had a funny bit about a FoolsLottery, and Star Trek had some funny stuff on their site, too. Google, of course had the Gulp.

This is what passes for a prank among Librarians. It's hard to buck a geeky steriotype with this level of librarian tomfoolery. Long live the geek!

Happy April Fool's Day

2005-04-01T10:42:00.000-05:00

I was hoping that the 10-20 cm of snow called for tonight was a prank, but it appears to be legit.

However, I did enjoy reading about Google's latest beta, GoogleGulp, the refreshing drink that changes your brain chemistry via DNA scanners, electrolyte neurotransmitter smartdrugs, and wireless transmitters. Strangely, this is not available from the Google.com site...

Sobering Realization

2005-03-30T14:20:00.000-05:00

While not a shock, this can hardly be good news: "Two-thirds of world's resources 'used up'."

Good times.

Tim Hortons Observations

2005-03-24T15:24:00.000-05:00

There's been a lot of talk about Mr. Horton in the blogging world, so I'd like to add my two-cents. Here's my list of Tim Hortons-related observations.

As Retroboy pointed out recently, what is with the rimming? Why is it that every time I get a coffee, the lid opening is always situated right on the seem? It's really annoying.
Have you ever pulled up to a Tim Hortons at the same time as someone else and see that driver actually race to get to the door before you? I love catching people do this. They have a very sheepish look on their face when they realize that you know what they did.
Ever since Tim Hortons started really penetrating the northern States, my chances of winning during Roll Up The Rim have drastically declined. I've bought nearly two cups of coffee a day since February 28th and I've won exactly one coffee. Woohoo. I used to win ALL THE TIME! I don't know if there's a real correlation, of if it's just a freaky coincidence. I'm not above a good conspiracy theory, however.
Why am I always behind the person in the drive-thru who is ordering coffees and sandwiches for the entire office?

Favorites list

2005-03-22T14:40:00.000-05:00

I love lists. Here's one that I made up. I've gotten enough of them emailed to me, but when I actively go looking for a list that I can fill out for my blog, could I find one? No!

Feel free to copy the questions and add your own answers to your blog, or leave a comment below.

Favorite book? Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, followed closely by The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, both by DNA.
Favorite movie? For now, it's Pride & Prejudice (The A&E/BBC version), but that may change after April 29th.
Favorite game? Trivial Pursuit (Canadian Edition).
Favorite food? Anything deep fried. Possibly deep fried wontons.
Favorite time of day? 11 AM. I've been up for a while and gotten stuff done, but it's still early enough that you could do anything, and get anything done.
Favorite song? Just Like Heaven by The Cure, and Bad Moon Rising by CCR.
Favorite car? MINI Cooper S in White with Black Bonnet striping, black mirror caps, and black roof (with the Sport Package).
Favorite drink? Blue Martini (Stolie's Vanilla Vodka, Lemonade, and a splash of blue caraco).
Favorite place to hang? Of the places I've been, I'd have to say the Muskoka's, followed closely by Chicago. Of the places I'd like to go, I'd would say Venice, or possibly Mykanos.
Favorite activity? :) Depends when you ask me. As it stands, today I would say it is "having really good sex on a warm afternoon", but tomorrow I might say "reading" or "watching a movie with Arthur." I also like jumping off the dock into a quiet lake in the summer. But who doesn't?

From the Mouths of Babes

2005-03-21T17:46:00.000-05:00

Benjy (singing Smash Mouth’s remake of “I’m A Believer”):

“Then I saw her face, now I’m a believer.
Not a trace. Get out of my mind!”

**************
Benjy: Sweetie meows a lot.
Me: Yeah. She’s in heat. I have to get her fixed.
Benjy: To fix her heat?
Me: Sort of.
Benjy: Because she meows when she’s hot?
Me: Yeah, something like that.

****************

Benjy: (playing with Barbie) This boy and this boy are going to get married.
Friend: No, two boys can’t get married.
Benjy: Can too.
Friend: No.
Benjy: Yeah, it was on the news! They can too. Ask my mom!
Friend: No way. Trillian, is that true?
Me: Hmmm. Your mom just called, it’s time for dinner.

*************

Frankie: Is it true that you have to spend money to make money?
My sister: Um. Sometimes. Where do you get this stuff?
Frankie: I don’t know. It just pops in my head.

*************

Frankie: Dad, is it true that if you kiss a girl you have to marry her?
Arthur: God, I hope not.
Me: No, you don’t have to marry them. But it is definitely against the rules for nine year olds to kiss. That’s a real rule. You’re not kissing girls, are you?
Frankie: No, but I give them piggyback rides. Jordan said that if you give a girl a piggyback ride you’re having sex.
Arthur: Well, Jordan's a dumb ass.

*************

Benjy: I know the Easter Bunny is just a Dad in a bunny suit.
Me: You do? How do you know that?
Benjy: Because bunnies aren't that big. That would be scary.
Me: What about Santa and the Tooth Fairy?
Benjy: What about them?
Me: Are they real?
Benjy: Mom! They're people! Remember, I sat on Santa's lap at Christmas. You were there. Geesh!

***************

Friend: Do you believe in God?
Frankie: Which one?

Weight Loss Truisms

2005-03-17T09:50:00.000-05:00

As I move towards adopting a healthier lifestyle, I seem to have attracted the attention of every dieter within a 10-km radius. For these people (and for myself), here are some truisms to keep it all in perspective.

If you’re not a happy fat person you won’t be a happy thin person. You don’t gain self-contentment from losing weight.
Squeezing your ass into an ill-fitting size 12 pant does not make you look thinner than wearing the size 14 that fits correctly. (Cut off the tag if it makes you feel better).
On the same line of thought, wearing tapered pants only emphasizes the size of your ass in relation to the size of your ankle. Opt for straight leg, wide leg, or boot cut pants. Believe me on this one.
Don’t skip your Tai Bo class because you’re too tired. You’ll feel so much better after you go. Really. I promise.
No – I don’t want a copy of your miracle diet – I’m trying to get healthier, not thinner at all costs.
Opt for whole grains instead of white flour, pasta, and rice. Honestly, your body treats white flour the same as sugar.
Sweet potatoes are a gift from the nutrition gods: they are both tasty and highly nutritious.
Be good to yourself: do what is good for your mind, body, and spirit.
Don’t benchmark yourself against others. We are all different, and that’s a very good thing.
Only you can make you feel bad about yourself. And only you can make you feel good about yourself.

Invitations

2005-03-13T19:39:00.000-05:00

I have this friend who's always saying, "Oh, I never see you! You never come over!" And yet she never invites me over. I invite her for dinner and such about once a month and she always comes, but I'm never invited over for coffee, or dinner, or anything.

Basically, if I want to go over to her house, I either have to show up unannounced (which everyone just loves) or call her up and invite myself over. She always seems happy to see me on these occasions, but I feel like I'm the one who always has to do all the work.

I like spending time with her, but my weekends tend to get filled up with people who've actually invited me over. Unless I don't have any plans, I don't tend to think about calling up people to invite myself over to their houses. You know what I mean? When I was a kid, my mom taught me that it was rude to call up a friend and ask if you could come over to their house. I either had to invite them to my house or wait for an invitation.

And I'm getting kind of resentful of being made to feel guilty for not coming over to their house more. Is it me, or is this a little weird?

New Beginnings

2005-03-05T16:06:00.000-05:00

I went to one of those parties today - you know, the ones only women get invited to where your friend hosts and the agent tries to sell you stuff - candles, cookware, plastic dishes, books, jewelry, makeup, or some other thing. Well, I'm a huge sucker for these parties. Partly because I'm too nice to say no, but also because they're kinda fun.

Well, one of the women there was a colleague of mine at the company where I used to work. When I worked with her she was a he, though.

I'd heard that she was undergoing gender reassignment, but I had found it hard to believe. When I knew her she was one of the nastiest, most slovenly men I'd ever met. She looked a lot like Barny from the Simpson's. When she was a man, she was unhappy, negative, and rather toxic in her attitude. I avoided talking to him because he just brought me down and I found him rather creepy.

As a woman, she's like a different person, which I guess she is. I had a nice chat with her, and I can't believe the transformation. She just glows she's so happy. She's easy to talk to, has a great outlook on life, and just seems to be in a really good place emotionally now. Looking at her now, I find it hard to believe that she was ever anything but a woman.

I guess it goes to show that we can't possibly imagine what other people are going through, or understand why they act the way they do. Everyone has lives that we don't see. Everyone has a past that we know nothing about, and emotions that we can't even guess at. I certainly was pleasantly surprised by humanity today, which is a nice change of pace.

True love and other silly notions

2005-03-01T13:46:00.000-05:00

I don't buy into the whole contrived nature of Valentine's Day and I've been known to forget my wedding anniversary more than once, but in all, I consider myself a romantic. Love, as they say, truly does make the world go round. Love - in all its forms - is what keeps most of us going. Me included. I loved my husband when I married him, but I absolutely adore him now.

What I don't believe in, however, is the whole argument that there is one true love for everyone in the world. Much like alcoholism, I think love is part genetic chemistry, and part environment. I would wager that there are hundreds, possibly thousands of people that a person could be compatible with. I might have a better chance at happiness with some over others, but it's all about your attitude, your environment, your personality, and the roll of the dice.

Could I have married someone other than Arthur and have been just as happy? Chances are, yes, I could have. It's quite possible that I could have made a go of it with Zaphod and led a different, but altogether equally satisfying life. Having been married to Arthur for nearly a decade, I'm thrilled with our life together - more so every day - and can't imagine any other life.

I think that's where the idea of one true love came from. Two people land in a great relationship, grow together as individuals and as a couple, and become so in tune with one another that they think that it must have been fate that brought them together, and assume that this was the one true love that they were meant to be with.

It's sweet and romantic, but it's a little too fatalistic for me. It doesn't take into account all the hard work, all the effort, and the good judgment of the two individuals. I think true love is more a matter of strong will and chance than some destiny marked in the stars. Fate sounds a little too Old Testament for my liking. I don't believe that anything on the planet is that well orchestrated that some cosmic energy could pre-ordain my one chance at true love.

So, while I am very grateful that I love, and am in return loved, by what I consider to be one of the greatest men in the world (yes, Arthur, I mean you), I'm going to give Arthur and I credit for that, rather than the gods.

What about you? Do you believe that there is only one true love for everyone?

Everything I Know, I Learned From My Kids

2005-02-25T12:25:00.000-05:00

I don't know about the rest of you, but I find that I learn so much from my kids. And not just the "Oh, I learned how to be a more, caring, patient person" stuff either. I'm talking cold, hard facts.

I learn a lot from Frankie because he's always liked to read books and watch documentaries crammed with facts. He's not terribly picky about the subject matter, either. While he prefers books about machines, technology, transportation, and Medieval and Ancient times, I've caught him watching a documentary on the migratory patterns of North American birds once. He's insatiable, and he passes his knowledge on to the rest of us, whether we want to hear it or not.

Benjy, being five, has up until recently not contributed significantly to my knowledgeable. Lately, though, she's started spouting pithy words of wisdom that I've found most interesting. Apparently you should always put the toilet seat down before you flush the toilet to minimize the amount of germs that spray up. I didn't know this. I'm not sure how she know it either, or whether it's true. She also told me that I should stop kissing Arthur, because that's how germs spread. Arthur said he was willing to take his chances.

Recently Benjy came home with, what I think, is her greatest discovery, learned from her friend at daycare:

"Mom, did you know that there's this guy, God? Yeah. And he's everywhere. He's in the bathroom, he's in the walls, he's in the backyard, he's even in my mouf! Creepy, huh?"

Oops

2005-02-24T19:56:00.000-05:00

Yeah. I've been messing around with my picture. I think I'm done now.

Touched by a Blogger

2005-02-21T09:07:00.000-05:00

I have to say that I'm surprised to find myself worrying and caring about you blogging strangers. It's amazing how none of us (or very few of us) have ever met, yet I feel like I know many of you so well. For instance, if someone asked me which of my favorite bloggers was most likely to post about the Mac Mini, I would say, without missing a beat, Wheelson. If I had to guess who would find the most outrageous little films or funny websites, I would automatically think of Jennie. And if I had to say whose posts I can best relate to as a woman and a mom, it would be SxKitten's.

When my favorite bloggers post about things that have happened, I have found myself reacting like a concerned friend, which was a bit of a surprise for me.

In the last couple of weeks, I have been blown away by a few bloggers. I was very disappointed to find out that Diva Drip wasn't going to be keeping up her blog anymore. What a sense of loss! And then Amelia turns up after a month long absence (in which so many of us worried about what could possibly have happened to her!). And when I read her post, I cried. What's even crazier is that my mom, who reads many of the same blogs I do, called me on the weekend, and in much the same tone she reserves for telling me that bad things have happened to my relatives, told me what happened to Amelia. Obviously, our concern for remote strangers is hereditary.

But you see, none of us are really strangers, are we? We share thoughts and opinions more freely on our blogs than we likely do in real life. And unlike parties with our friends, when we're blogging, we get to present our message exactly how we want without anyone cutting us off. People in blogging land get to hear the best of us, and it becomes apparent rather quickly what makes us tick.

It's true that some bloggers might be totally fooling me. Maybe they are blogging geniuses that are fooling us all, like Blah. But I doubt it. I feel like I know many of the bloggers I read every week (and in some cases I do). It's nice to make a connection, no matter how remote. We're human after all, and we thrive on contact.

So, to all you bloggers out there, and you know who you are, you've made an impact on me. And that's just about the best thing in the world I could ask for.

It's ALIVE!

2005-02-17T09:22:00.000-05:00

Ha! The world premier trailer for Hitchhiker's Guide movie is available on Amazon.com. Looks pretty good (except Zaphod seems to be missing a head)...

Kyoto Accord Takes Effect; NHL Still Quiet

2005-02-16T12:35:00.000-05:00

Canada's participation in the Kyoto Accord begins today. We'll be collectively working on reducing greenhouse emissions by 5.2 percent over 1990 levels by the end of 2008.

I think we can do it. (Simply not turning on the tv to watch Hockey Night In Canada should reduce emissions!)

What about you? Need more information? Get the inside scoop via the Government of Canada's One Tonne Challenge Website. Also, there's a very cute picture of Rick Mercer looking all serious, for those who love our national comedian.

Zinc is a wonder mineral

2005-02-16T08:58:00.000-05:00

Much like baths, I think that Zinc lozenges are the bomb in terms of making you feel better. I'm not a doctor, but I play one at home. Whenever I feel a tickle in the back of my throat, I pop a lozenge and stave away nasty colds. Since I started doing this last year, I haven't had one cold. I've felt them coming on, but they've never gone anywhere, what with my trusty zinc lozenges at the ready.

Another miracle cure is hot toddies. Sometimes I like to get a cold just so I can get Arthur to make me a hot toddy and rub my feet. But don't tell Arthur.

PG or not PG

2005-02-14T14:03:00.000-05:00

I had a rather interesting post on personal grooming that Blogger refused to publish, and I don't have the energy to try to recreate it. Sadly, I didn't save it, either. I'll publish that later. For now, I'll leave you with an interesting observation.

Arthur and I rented "Lost in Translation" again last night. This is one of my favorite movies. A notice came up at the beginning of the DVD that it was rated "R" by the MPAA due to its sexual content. Arthur and I thought that didn't seem right.

We checked the DVD case, and sure enough, the Ontario Film Review Board gave it a rating of "PG."

Apparenly Canadian children are less traumatized by bare breasts than American children.

Blogging Styles

2005-02-10T08:51:00.000-05:00

Wheelson recently wrote an interesting "blogging best practices" post, in which he discussed the virtues of a short post. I have a preference for shorter posts. If a post is more than four of five paragraphs, then I generally don't have the attention span for it, unless it's something really, really interesting, like a funny anecdote or an interesting observation. Talk to me about the Mac Mini for 8 paragraphs, and I'll likely move on. Take the time to set up how you add milk to your colleague's carton every day, and I'll read it.

I like to mix things up when I write - sometimes ultra short, and sometimes a little longer. I try to keep it to about 5 paragraphs max - which can require some serious editing, Hemingway style.

What about you? What's your posting style? What's your reading preference: short or long? What topics are you likely to read, even if the post is longer than you normally like? What do you pass on right away?

If life were like that, you wouldn’t need a business card.

2005-02-08T16:43:00.000-05:00

life: simplified

Benjy: “What’s Daddy?”
Trillian: “What do you mean?”
Benjy: “Well, you’re a 'Writer Girl'. What’s Daddy?”
Trillian: “Oh, he’s a 'Money Boy'.”

Honk, Honk

2005-02-07T23:38:00.000-05:00

We are all guilty of having “hang ups.” For instance, I have a girlfriend won’t let her kids drink apple juice (too much sugar, I guess). Arthur is paranoid about knives (even if you’re just cutting your sandwich). My daughter has a phobia about escalators. I have another friend who doesn’t like other people’s hair to inadvertently touch him.

I have a few “weird” hang-ups, myself. The worst of these is public nose blowing. To me, blowing your nose in front of other people is like sitting on a toilet in the middle of a crowded room, in plain view of everyone. I don’t do it, and I hate to see (or hear it). I appear to be a minority in this respect, though, as many of my friends and co-workers don’t think twice about giving their nose a vigorous blow in shared office space, during meetings, after a meal, at a party, or in a movie theatre. Unless I’m at home with the family, I try to take my nose blowing to the bathroom, or at least a private corner away from everyone else. If I can’t get to a bathroom, I discretely dab my nose with a tissue until I can make a getaway.

What do you think? Should I get help?

More than just hot water and soap

2005-02-07T13:06:00.000-05:00

Like the Captain of the 'B'-Ark (from that wholely remarkable book) , and like Douglas Adams himself, I am a great believer in the hot bath. It cures all, in fact. For instance, I woke up this morning with the same incurable headache I'd gone to bed with last night. Shirking the Advil liquid gels that had let me down the night before, I instead had a relaxing soak among my bubbles and assorted bath paraphenalia. I emerged a new woman, and the headache has, for all intents and purposes, fled the scene.

Similarly, I was without an angle for my latest article today, but the bath also cured that. Writers block is no match for a good, hot bath. With bubbles.

In my opinion, baths cure colds, headaches, stomach aches, various lower intestinal irritations, IBS, womanly afflictions, and spousal annoyances (the last requires the addition of a chilled chardonnay - consumed, not poured in).

I've been able to pass the bath philosophy on to my daughter, who believes that baths, like crazy straws, hold mystical healing powers. Oatmeal baths are doubly impressive because they also relieve the symptoms of chicken pox, eczema, and impetigo.

So, the next time you're feeling stressed, chilly, or mildly ill, I recommend a nice long soak in a very hot bath. Bubbles are optional.

Misdirected Fortune

2005-02-04T13:05:00.000-05:00

"You are never bitter, deceptive, or petty."

Heh, heh, heh.
This is the fortune I got from my cookie when I went to lunch with Arthur today. He thinks I picked up the wrong cookie.